It was Sunday.
Most days on holiday began with Jonty pulling his caravan curtains to one side to confirm it was sunny, an unhealthy breakfast which, at a push, would last him 'till tea time, and some anticipated,if not always fulfilled, adventure. Sundays were no different, but Sundays were also market day. The whole family would pile in the car and head down the coast to go to Skirlington, where, for some reason, there was an enormous market in the middle of nowhere. This was also a special Sunday for in addition to his one pound pocket money, Jonty's capital had been increased by his prize money from the sandcastle competition. He envisaged his three pounds might buy him something quite decent, especially if he dropped on any second hand Dublo stuff.
The traffic jam into the market seemed longer than ever as Jonty thought his money might melt away in his pocket. Finally, however, a parking place was found and with the customary warnings of not straying to far, his Mother, his dad. his sister, her pushchair and Jonty set off round the market, threading their way between hundreds of similar family permutations. Jonty’s Mum would stop and pick up clothes while his father would forge ahead impatiently, only to be overtaken at some tool or book store. All round the market they went, but with little joy for Jonty in the train department. None of the toy stalls carried new stock (Which was far to expensive anyway), and none of the second hand stalls had anything suitable.
Jonathan did spot something which he fancied; a pair of brightly coloured roller skates. Not the old metal type which are nowadays invariably rusty, but very solid plastic, with Velcro straps and a ratchet beneath to increase their size.
“Wow!”
This was Jonty’s customary exclamation of wonder as a prelude to asking his dad if he could buy them.
“It’s your money” was his dad’s reply, and so Jonty scuttled over to the second hand toy stall, where it's owner was enjoying a cigarette with his newspaper and coffee.
“Excuse me,” Jonty squeaked. “how much are those roller skates”
“Six pounds” said the man, barely glancing up from his page full of telephone numbers.
Now any boy knows that three pounds is only half of six pounds, and that was not enough. Jonty had an idea.
“Sir, could l buy just one of them?”
The man put his paper down and said “No but you can have ’em for a fiver.”
“But I’ve only got three pounds.”
“Go and borrow a quid and you can have 'em both; two pound each, take 'em home with you.”
Jonty thought over the offer with mounting pessimism and, swallowing his regret, told the man he wasn‘t allowed any more money and that was that and thank you, goodbye.
He ran over to where his dad was looking at some training shoes which were to small for his feet, and told him what had happened.
Now Jonty's dad really loved Jonathan but his policy regarding extra money and treats was to save them for birthdays and Christmas, so no matter how many indirect hints Jonathan dropped, his Dad’s wallet remained in his pocket while his hands didn’t. They wandered away from the shoe stall towards their mother and Alice.
“Oy” a voice shouted behind them “Go on then”
You guessed.. It was the man on the stall, having like Jonty given up hope of an extra pound, conceding the bargain of the day to Jonty. A minute later the roller skates were clinking reassuringly in a carrier bag which Jonty had to bend his arm to keep of the floor.
“Dad, can I wear them”. The sixth time Jonathan asked that question they were back at the caravan site after taking one hour to drive out of a gridlocked Skirlington market, stopping at the farm shop, and spending two hours in Bridlington.
For a change his dad said “Yes” and so it was Thunderbirds Are Go as Jonathan eagerly pushed the skates to just the right size and strapped them over his shoes.
Gingerly he arose from the caravan step and made his first few steps.
A roll, a wobble and a grab on the railing. Within ten minutes Jonty was feeling quite cocky, and unusually for someone learning to use roller skates, had not fallen over. He stuck his head to the caravan window, where his mum was grappling with several carrier bags, examining the fruits of dad's hard earned cash.
“Mum” Jonty asked liltingly. “Can I go to the beach”
“Of course” said his Mum, her field of vision being occupied only by the new skirt she held up to the light.
Such is the combination of innocent incidents which preclude a major catastrophe. Jonathan’s dad knew his son couldn’t come to too much harm on the roller skates near the caravan. Jonty's mum was confident of his safety on the beach and the road to it, and Jonty, having not the experience of his parents, imagined that the two could be combined safely.
Fact is that together, the road to the beach and the roller skates, made a near lethal cocktail.
Quote: 'The road through the caravan site wasn't so bad, but near the beach it steepened drastically.’ As Jonty glided down the path, all thoughts of the disaster which lay ahead were far away from his eight year old mind. Like the Queen of the Prom he would lift one foot up, push, put both feet together, glide, sway gently from side to side, and even clasp his hands behind his back, whistling nonchalantly and secretly hoping he might be the object of some admiring glances.
Never has the phrase 'pride comes before a fall' been so appropriate.
Imperceptibly, to Jonathan, the road steepened, and by the time he realised, he had begun to go too quickly to stop without hurting himself. Horrors! The gradient of the road increased with its proximity to the cliff, and so did Jonty's speed. Instinct made Jonathan crouch unknowingly into the perfect tuck position and, like the East German four man bob-sleigh team, he hurtled past the few startled holidaymakers on the road until 'it became so steep that the engineers had decided it was prudent to build some steps which turned down the last bit of cliff at right angles to the road'.
Jonathan had a few seconds to be genuinely terrified, strangely enough more of the upset he would cause his parents than the pain he would shortly endure. ln a millisecond he hit the platform at the top of the steps where, only yesterday, The Chuckle Brothers had judged the competition.
He crashed through the rickety fence like it wasn’t there. He didn't know it. but the drop to the beach was twenty six feet; enough to break a little boy's legs but for one thing.
As Jonty burst through the splintering woodwork he saw only one thing.
Untouched by the tide, three wheels missing, number 4468 A4 Pacific, the pride of the LNER's East coast mine line express engines... THE MALLARD
All things come to an end, and so it was by peculiar coincidence that the sandcastle engine and Jonty's flight through the air did so simultaneously.
Jonathan remained motionless in the pile of sand (He well remembered the dramatic effect this act had when performed by Baloo at the end of 'The Jungle Book'), but as the wheels on the roller-skates stopped spinning he lifted his head to see several people running towards him, and one man stepping up. When Jonty's health had been thankfully established and the sand dusted of him, it was with trepidation that he took of his skates to walk home up the rail-less stops.
At the top stood his dad who had heard some commotion. Having explained his side of the story Jonty was relieved to find his dad was relieved. Jonty promised to be more careful in future. and his dad promised him a 'Freaky Foot' (ice lolly).
Within a few days a new. much stronger fence had been built. and some of the bigger boys had even took their skateboards to the beach path, but none of them ever dared to emulate Jonty's jump.